


bloody and raw (i swear it is sweet)

by violetwreaths



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/F, a take on the s1 finale and the s2 finale, lots of religious imagery, short and ....not really sweet, so maybe skip if that offends you bc its pretty heavy on that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetwreaths/pseuds/violetwreaths
Summary: Eve discovered the original sin of knowledge. Villanelle is the serpent who has always possessed it. What drives them together? And what drives them apart?





	bloody and raw (i swear it is sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> real talk why do i, the atheist, insist on using religious imagery all the time smh. this is super short but i couldn't get it out of my head so i figured i'd drop it here. title is from hozier's 'angel of small death and the codeine scene'

Villanelle had never been one for religion. She held no love for the concept of a ‘higher power’, the concept of someone having some great, ineffable plan for her that she could not change. Villanelle was the architect of her own destiny. That had always been the way. She forged her own path, blazed through the world like her own personal brand of hellfire and that was exactly how she liked it. 

Until Eve. Eve Polastri stumbled into her life brandishing an olive branch and Villanelle has never believed in a deity in her life, except what else could have sent Eve except for Fate herself? 

No, Villanelle has never been one for religion but Eve Polastri makes her ache for something more to exist in this world. 

It’s almost funny, Villanelle thinks, as she lies in some cursed hospital, her stomach throbbing with the reminder of what Eve had done to her. It’s almost funny that Eve has damned her so. Gentle fingertips drift down to circle her wound and Villanelle allows her eyes to slide closed as she traces the ragged skin at the edges of it, this Judas kiss adorning her consecrated body. She doesn’t care what anyone says. Eve had been showing her how much she loved Villanelle. That was all this was. 

Villanelle’s heart beat on, Eve had not killed her. No, instead Eve had killed the childish innocence within herself. A child died that night and Eve had been the one who dealt the killing blow. Eve had been the one who had drawn first blood. 

To spill blood was holy. 

Blood spilled was a power that shouldn’t be underestimated. Blood spilled, when done right, was sacred and now, Eve had Villanelle’s blood on her hands. That didn’t go away. Even if Eve scrubbed her skin raw, right down to the pulsing tendons, to the gleaming bone beneath. Her blood stained Eve now. Knowledge had always been that first, forbidden, furious sin and oh, how her darling Eve craved it. She craved the knowledge of what power Villanelle held and now she had it, it was never going to leave her brain. 

Villanelle had never been one for religion but, as she prods insistently at the wound - like a child, desperate to touch a bruise until it aches - she thinks that maybe Eve is. Eve, with her wild hair and wild eyes and wild, wild heart. Perhaps Eve is someone who kneels, who worships, who stands before a broken altar and prays as her hymns unravel and the world begins to become clear. 

The haze has broken now. Villanelle knows that - possibly more than Eve does. Spilling blood is a sacrifice. It is an act of worship, the profane act of plunging a blade into sweet, warm flesh. She wonders if Eve could feel divinity flow through her as she did it. Villanelle has never been one for religion but she _does_ understand the divine power of holding someone’s very life in your hands. That’s worship. 

\--- 

They stand six feet apart with the ruins of Rome around them and Villanelle cannot help but think that, in this moment, Eve seems like a holy vessel, so blessed and sacred and yet, how empty must she be to be a vessel? 

How empty must Villanelle be to understand? 

She doesn’t think Eve understands the doctrine they’ve written together, the world that they live in now. Eve is afraid to believe. Perhaps Villanelle had been wrong to think that Eve would be the one to worship first and, well, isn’t that ironic? Isn’t it funny that it is Villanelle who stands here, an anchorless zealot choking on her own Hail Marys as Eve stares back, an angry apostate? 

She doesn’t understand how this could be. How Eve could look at the miracles they rend from one another and believe this is earthly. Holy water has never healed old wounds but dear god, it has sterilized them and Villanelle just wants that for Eve. She has bled and broken for Eve, has thrown herself under the hooves of war horses just to protect her and Eve remains a non-believer. 

Their love is something holy in a world of heretics and Eve is _rejecting_ it? 

She was afraid, Villanelle decided. That was all. Some things are so all-consuming that it can be fear-inducing. Judas betrayed Jesus because he was afraid of how much he loved Him, right? That was what was happening here. Villanelle will give Eve space to repent, to learn from her mistakes, to understand that the only sin she is committing is loving too much for Eve to handle.

She and Eve are the same, shoulder to shoulder in a burning church and waiting for the flames of hell to swallow them whole. They were the same. Why could Eve not see that? 

Perhaps it was Villanelle’s turn to make a sacrifice. The gods are appeased when you spill blood. Perhaps Eve will be appeased too. Villanelle raises the gun, a poor imitation of the white bone knife she feels would be more appropriate and the shot cleaves the air in two like perfect, pious plainsong. 

The stain that blossoms on Eve’s clothing is the colour of communion wine.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello on twitter @sapphicvers!


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